


Taking Care of Richard

by YellowPencils



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M, S1E6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:58:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6217213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowPencils/pseuds/YellowPencils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camille looks after Richard as he continues to recover from his illness.</p><p>Set post-S1E6</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Care of Richard

Forcing himself out of his sick bed to finish off the case and oversee the arrest had worn Richard out. After he had completed the paperwork, he accepted Camille's offer of a life back home gratefully.

He couldn't remember much after actually getting there, except that he must have managed to get changed into his usual blue striped pyjamas and make it into bed, where he spent the night tossing and turning, waking regularly, covered in sweat.

Morning arrived, along with the dreaded sunlight streaming through the windows, making the entire place look even more shabby than it actually was. Richard screwed his eyes closed to drown out as much of the intrusive light as possible. He found, however, that doing so just made his face hurt. He was obviously still not completely recovered.

 _"Ugh,"_ he groaned, trying to remove one arm from beneath the covers so he could cover his eyes with it, but couldn't quite connect the thought and action together.

Richard became increasingly restless, wriggling uncomfortably, not quite having the energy required to do much else.

"What is it?" A voice mumbled from close by, "Can I get you something?"

Despite his lack of complete consciousness, Richard was sure that he was not imagining the voice, yet he couldn't imagine who it could belong to. If it wasn't for his outburst about her beloved - but inedible - chicken soup, he would have assumed that it was Catherine there to force some more of it down his neck.

_It wasn't, was it?_

Worried, Richard tried to sit up hastily, his head beginning to swim.

"Don't move," that voice again, "I'll get you some cold water. You need to keep your fluids up."

Richard tried to speak, but just ended up grunting instead. He felt movement in the bed next to him, then heard feet padding softly across the floor.

"Wha...ug..." he managed, hearing the fridge opening and closing.

"Be quiet," a by-now-familiar voice instructed, moving closer to the bed once more.

Camille reached underneath his head and adjusted his pillows, slightly less gentle than he would have liked.

 _"Ow!_ Cam...ille...wha...doing...?" he managed.

With Camille's help, Richard sat up enough to take the bottle of water she held out to him, drinking several mouthfuls, which eased his dry throat.

It wasn't until he set the bottle down on the bedside table that he realised what she was wearing. He stared for a moment, before clearing his throat.

"Um, Camille, are those...are you wearing some of my pyjamas?"

"Oh," she looked down, as if she'd forgotten her attire, "Yes. I didn't have much choice, I'm afraid. Don't worry, I'll wash them for you."

"They suit you," Richard said, "keep them if you want."

Camille gave him a look somewhere between annoyance and amusement, moving back around the bed.

"You didn't have to stay, you know," Richard said, "But thank you. It was very kind."

"It wasn't kind so much as _necessary,"_ came her reply, "You must have seriously worn yourself out going out yesterday, you were practically asleep before you made it into bed. You looked so poorly, I didn't think you should be alone."

Richard said nothing, unable to articulate anything he wanted to say.

"Anyway," Camille continued, "You're looking a bit better today. Do you want some food?"

"It's not..." Richard began, then clamped his mouth shut.

"No," Camille sighed, "I don't mean chicken soup. I don't know if my mother will ever make that again, thanks to you."

"Look, I'm sorry, Camille, but she was basically pouring it right down my throat, I was practically _drowning_ in the stuff!"

"Just...apologise. Please? Blame it on your illness. Say your taste buds were affected or something."

"Do I have to?" he sighed.

"If you want to set foot in her bar again, yes."

"Okay, okay," Richard raised a hand, "But I'm still not going to eat any more of it. Ever."

Camille nodded, knowing that was the best she would get out of him. She looked through the kitchen cupboards, not finding much food.

"How about some toast for now? I can ask my mother to bring over some supplies a bit later. Not soup," she emphasised.

"Hmm..." came the only reply.

Camille turned to find that Richard had started to doze off again, and still sitting up, he was starting to slip over to the right.

 _"Sir!"_ she whispered loudly, moving quickly to catch him, not wanting him woken by his fall.

Catching Richard, arms encircling him, Camille manouvered them until they were both relatively comfortable. She began to pull away from him, but his hand suddenly grasped her arm, pulling them even closer together. Camille froze for a few moments, contemplating what to do, then shrugged and laid down next to Richard, one arm around him, one arm being pulled towards him, his head in the crook of her arm.

She took in her sleeping boss, seeing how relaxed he looked, enjoying the feel of his weight against her. Before she realised what she was doing, one of her hands had made its way into his hair, running through the short strands. Leaning forward as much as their pozition allowed her to, she planted a soft kiss on his forehead, still slightly damp with sweat.

"Don't leave me," Richard murmured.

Camille smiled, although she didn't know whether he was even aware that he had spoken.

"Don't worry," she whispered into his ear, "I'm not going anywhere."

After a moment, she spoke again.

"You know what? I quite like these pyjamas. They're very comfortable."

"Told you so," even in his current state, Richard could not hide the smugness in his voice.


End file.
